“Get back here you mutt!” 

My boots thumped hard against the smooth cobbles of the street as I took flight, the irregular beat of my steps resounding through the narrow alleys. The Master blacksmith gave chase, his face red with rage and spittle erupting from his mouth at every shout. But his hulking form had trouble squeezing through the narrow alleys and backstreets of the northern district, he may have had a chance to catch me if I had stayed on the wide and populous main roads, but I had instead chanced upon a small side street and hadn't stopped running since. 

As the shouting in my wake became a faraway whisper, I re-entered the main throughfare to blend in with the shopping carts, market stalls and men and women dressed in colorful garments who streamed down the road. The evening sun was beginning to set behind me, making my shadow long as I ran and weaved my way home.  

When the well-built limestone of the Northern District warped into plain wooden walls and rough gray rock of the West, I breathed a sigh of relief and slowed to a walk to recover from the intense run. The houses around me seemed to slant and buckle, heaving under the weight of the multiple families living within. The main street grew narrower and dirtier, the flagstones uneven and wonky and a slight musky smell was in the air.  

‘The Ashes’ tavern, in the western district, was my destination. 

I had just run from my Master Blacksmith, my mentor and ‘current’ employer. My one-way ticket out of the Western slums. And I blew it.  

“Hey Aron, back already from your apprentice training?” 

I turned stiffly to face the girl behind me and frowned. She was a whole head shorter and dressed a little too well to be hanging around the western quarter. 

“Hello to you too, Sparrow. No, clearly I am a clone, and the real Aron is still in training with Master Crim.” Or so I dearly wished. The girl rolled her eyes and pushed past me to open the door. 

“Don’t tell me you’re skipping training? Did they tell you to leave early? Who did you brush the wrong way this time?” 

When I didn’t answer, Sparrow turned to me, her eyes squinting as if she was trying to read my thoughts. Then she doubled back and gasped. 

“You got thrown out!” I grunted. “No way! Marcus is going to be furious. Have you told him already?” I shook my head. “He paid a lot for that apprenticeship you know?” 

“As if I didn't!” I snapped back. She was taken aback for a second, as I stared at her. Then she clucked and pressed on. 

“Well, we can tell him together. He won’t berate you too badly if I’m there. And anyway, I’ll be there for tomorrow morning’s lesson too.” She pushed the door open, pulling me in by my shirt. Inside, the small room was dim, with silhouettes of visitors and drunks standing and sitting by small candle-lit tables. Few turned to look to see who came in and those who did paid us no mind, everyone knew Marcus’ whelps.  

The Tavern was not large. ‘The Ashes’ was a fitting name. No matter how many times Marcus forced me to scrub the place clean from floor to ceiling, dust hung in the air, giving it a dry and musty feel. It was never bright inside either, thanks to the small, shuttered windows. Mainly, it was the establisher himself who filled its atmosphere with dread. 

Marcus stood behind the bar at the far end, wiping away at mugs and bowls. He worked slowly, meticulously, as if nothing could disturb him from his work. It was hard to pin down exactly, but something about Marcus stood out from the rest of the slum dwellers. Like he didn’t exactly fit in as a mere tavern owner in the dirtiest district of Argos.  

His grey eyes looked up and locked with mine. Suddenly, my whole mouth felt dry. 

“Evening, Marcus.” Sparrow chirped, as though nothing was amiss. She plopped herself on the dingy stool that creaked beneath her and set her head on the bar. “Busy?” 

Marcus gruffed. “Yes, unlike this one. Why back so early, boy?” 

Maybe I should have slept on a rooftop for tonight. Too late for that now. “They let me off early.” I said as nonchalantly as I could manage, sliding behind the bar to help him and quickly grabbing a rug to wipe the place clean. Better get on his good side now. 

“Master Crim threw him out.” Sparrow uttered before exchanging an anxious look with me. We held our breaths.  

Marcus had his back to me. He seemed to have stopped whatever he was previously doing. The seconds ticked past painfully as we waited in silence.  

Eventually he spoke up. “He threw you out...?”  

“Yes…”  

“Permanently?”  

I grimaced, “Yes, permanently.” 

Marcus paused again, most likely considering whether he should boil me alive right here and now. “So, you can't continue with your apprenticeship?” 

“Eehh, no. No, I can’t.” I glanced at Sparrow again, and she made a face that said perhaps I may yet live. I was not so sure. 

“You understand how much it cost me?” Marcus finally turned to me and looked me dead in the eye.  

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“Yes, Marcus. I do.” An apprenticeship was no small investment. It was usually only passed down from fathers to sons and could cost half a year’s wage. 

“You will pay me back everything, down to the very last serf. No matter how long it takes.”  

“Yes sir.” The price was staggering, but it was understandable. 

“And you will have no drink here until you have.” 

“Yes sir.” Harsh, but fair. 

“And you will receive no advanced classes until spring. You are going back to basics.” 

At this I balked. “Marcus, you can’t do that.” He glowered; it didn’t help that he was perhaps half a head taller. Curse my shorter stature. 

“I can, and I am, if only it would engrain some damned patience into your head, you insolent fool.” 

“Right then!” Sparrow spoke up, bouncing off her stool. “It has been, erh, nice visiting. Walk me to the edge of the slums, Aron?” She smiled, and I was more than grateful to get a retrieve from Marcus’ simmering rage.  

“Fill up this too. The water at the boundary is the cleanest.” A bucket came hurtling my way, and I was glad I caught it before it slammed into my face.  

Before he could say anything else, Sparrow shouted Marcus a farewell and dragged me out of The Ashes, which was slowly filling with guests. We pushed past as some people murmured hullos, until her hand finally hit the door and swung it open. 

The brisk night air was a welcome reprieve to the stale Tavern. Although the cold of winter was beginning to arrive.  

Sparrow let out a sigh, tilting her head back. Her breath hung in the air as a cloud, before being swept away by the wind. She turned to me. “That could have gone worse.” 

I scoffed. She had a point, but… “I don’t mind the debt, I was going to pay him back anyway, somehow… But holding me back in class…” I turned to her, catching the emerald green of her eyes. “How do I explain…” 

“Worried you’ll fall behind me?” She hit my shoulder playfully. “It’s okay, once you’re back, I’m sure Marcus will push you harder than ever before.” 

“No, no not that. It’s uh…” I stared at her again and found myself unable to express how I felt. The dread of not using magic scared me like nothing else but trying to say it aloud caused my tongue to get stuck in my throat. Sparrow rolled her eyes at me. 

“Ugh, you’re such a dork. Three months without classes and you sound like he has ruined your life. That would have been a blessing for me, Marcus is always so harsh… Especially since I don’t pick everything up in an instant like you.” We began walking away, towards the center of Argos. Behind us the din of the tavern faded to a murmur. Hearing a repetitive clacking, I noticed that the beat of Sparrow’s heels sounded too out of place for the west. I should probably tell her later to wear something less appealing to thieves, lest we attract one.  

Sparrow broke the silence once more. 

“You know I’ve always been jealous of you, right?” 

I glanced to the side, but she did not look at me. I couldn’t help but scoff. 

“Oh, tell me more, my lady, of how jealous you are of this slum dweller.” she made a face like she was about to deny what I said, but I interrupted before she could. “Oh, do not think you can try convince me that your home is within the Western Quarter.”, my voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “I’ve known you for a year, it's a little obvious, don’t you think? At worst you are some rich merchant’s girl. Your father an artisan in the north? You could even be nobility for all I know. Let’s just hope your family was not responsible for the Burning of the magician's guild, or how ironic would be that their daughter now has to be taught by throwaways in- ” 

Sparrow skidded to a halt, the edges of her dress swaying with force. Even dressed in simpler clothes she could not hide the grace with which she walked and held herself, nor explain the lack of calluses on her even skin. She looked me in the eye, and it finally it registered that I crossed a line I shouldn’t have even touched. I had to remind myself sometimes that she was a friend, not just a classmate. 

“You’re a jerk, Aron.” her eyes glowered, but I could tell she was more upset than angry. I’d have to buy her a pint later once my pockets were not so empty.  

I nodded, grimacing. “Yeah, I know.” I smirked. “I’m afraid it’s fatal- incurable in fact. You should be careful; it could be contagious.” 

We strolled along minding our own business. We knew we were reaching the end of the slums; you could tell by how the wooden walls changed to limestone and the paths became cobbled and clean. The center of Argos was an interesting place. At its very heart stood Argylle’s castle, the last real remnant of the first King in Argos, although few would ever see it in their life, especially us slum-dwellers. It was the only place where all four Quarters brushed up against each other, where people from all walks of life mixed, whether you were a southern Noble brat, a farmer from the East, a carpenter from the North, or even a slum dweller. 

And here I stood, exactly at the edge of this strange amalgamation. I could always recognize the shift by the last slum building on the edge. It was a rivaling tavern, although we were of little competition to it at all. ‘The Rim’ was the closest any western tavern would get to success. It may have clearly stood within the Western Quarter, but it looked just respectable enough to pull wealthier customers from other regions.  

“Thanks Aron, I can walk from here. I’ll see you tomorrow at the usual time. Oh, and don’t let Marcus get you down too much. He may be harsh, but he has your best interests at heart.” I waved vaguely at Sparrow as she pulled her hood tighter over her head and walked away. Sometimes I debated following her, just to see what kind of life she really lived. Then again, I’m not that much of a creep, nor cared to know so badly. Maybe I didn’t want to know at all. 

I made my last stop before returning home. The well beside The Rim was the cleanest Marcus or I could find, so he made a point of sending me to get water from here whenever he could. I wondered if being closer to the center had anything to do with it. At least they’ve not had a body found in this one – I hope. 

Reaching the well’s opening, I tied the rope around the handle of the bucket, and sent it hurtling down. The knot came loose. My hand slipped. The bucket fell through. 

My stomach lurched as it plunged into the darkness. My hand reached out, grasping at what was no longer there. 

Then it happened. 

A part of me reached out from beyond my own skin, like an extension of my will. It rushed past my futile, short-reaching hands and dived forth.  

The bucket froze in midair. Anyone else would not understand what was happening, but I knew exactly what I’d done. 

I’d wielded magic. Out in the open. 

And magic was very, very illegal.  

In a single motion, I willed the force that erupted from within to return. It obeyed, as always, loyally. The bucket ascended, gently placing itself into my hand, as though possessed.  

I should have just let it fall. 

‘It is alright’ I thought to myself, foolishly. Glancing around, I checked that the street was as empty as it had been before. Not a soul in sight.  

Drawing water from the well again this time more carefully, I felt prickling on the back of my neck and glanced up. 

At the eyes staring at me from the window of ‘The Rim’.